The Art of Hindsight
by Free Drinks
Summary: The problem with hindsight is that you can only learn from the same old mistakes you've made before. Doesn't help when you keep making up new ones.


I don't own Harry Potter. I make no money from this. I only do this for fun. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

If you gathered together all the Weasley children together and asked them, Ron would probably be the third to tell you that he wasn't the brightest of the bunch.

Third, rather than first, only because Fred and George would likely have already offered his name upon hearing the question. He never really had either of their quick wit or Charlie and Bill's command of spells. Ginny, albeit still a bit young to judge, was definitely turning more into a Percy "I-Made-Outstanding-O.W.L.S.-Because-The-Ministry-Expects-Nothing-Less" Weasley type than a Ron.

No doubt about it, of all the tools in the Weasley shed, Ron was certainly the dullest.

For a moment, his pen slumped defeatedly in his hand.

'Hey!' His brain suddenly chimed in, fighting back against the sudden plummet in esteem and focus. 'But that doesn't matter because you've been studying for bloody _ages_ today!'

Ron thought the point over for a moment before nodding.

His brain was right.

He _had_ been studying today; and for a long time! Sure, Hermione had threatened to hex his hair blond if he didn't give her and Harry at least the morning of uninterrupted quiet-study, but the why's didn't matter when the work got done in the end.

Ron took a glance at the parchment by his hand and quickly counted the four—almost five, he added proudly—pages of notes he had taken and leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk crossing his lips.

'Surely, they need a break as well!' his thoughts continued, 'after all, it's been what?'

Ron took a quick glance at the clock and nearly gasped.

'Thirty minutes!' he mentally exclaimed, 'That's nearly a quarter century to be wasting away, nose in some book!'

Ron frowned to himself, his face settling with a grave certainty. Thirty minutes was more than enough time spent studying to warrant a break.

Just to see how they were coming along.

Hermione would surely understand.

He felt almost liberated as he walked out of the library, as if an unspoken judgement was lifted from his shoulders. Eagerly, he sped down the corridors, a skip in his step. He couldn't suppress a smirk as he brushed past a group of third years nervously making their way to their next potions class.

Quickly telling the Fat Lady the password, Ron sped inside the Gryffindor dormitory and jumped to the duo's usual table by the fireplace.

"Hey Harry, Hermione!" he said brightly, round the corner, "You lot want to take a break, or wha-"

Ron paused. He blinked

"Neville?"

The boy, Neville, looked up sheepishly.

"Uh…" he stammered, hesitating nervously tapped his quill on his book and tried to smile. "Hey, Ron."

"Where's Harry?" Ron blurted out. "And Hermione?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably under Ron's disappointed gaze.

"I, uh…I saw Harry go down to the Great Hall earlier this morning?"

"This morning?" Ron shot back, "But haven't they been studying in here all day?"

Neville shook his head slowly, waving a hand across his sprawled-out desk.

"It's been just me and my notes since just before breakfast."

Ron frowned.

This was not a welcome development.

Hermione had been quite…explicit in her demand for quiet, yesterday. But for them to have left him alone? To just study on his own?

To make matters worse, Neville was clearly not appreciating the gravity of this situation. If something had been so important as to distract Harry _and_ Hermione from studying, it would have to be something big.

Like, adventure big.

…Or lunch, he mentally added as his stomach gave a weak growl.

Either way, unacceptable.

'And to think', he scowled mentally, 'I almost missed out for _studying_!'

"The Great Hall, you said?"

* * *

The Great Hall, Ron noticed upon arrival, was nearly deserted.

Some third year Hufflepuffs were eating leftovers by the front, and he was he noticed a group of Ravenclaws being nerds by one of the many fireplaces.

"Feh." He whispered to himself, pityingly. And to think, that had almost been _him_.

Scanning the room further, Ron found what he had been looking for. A bushy mop of deep brown hair alongside a less curly but equally unruly head of jet black hair.

The bloody bastards. They were here without him!

"Well, well." Ron began sanctimoniously as he approached. "If it isn't the two flakey friends who ditch their best mate—"

 _Thunk_.

"—And leave him studying while they're out –"

 _Thunk._

Ron squinted as he rounded on the two, coming up to the table.

"What the bloody hell is that nois-?"

 _Thunk._

The redhead watched in total horror as Harry, who had been absently spinning his wand in his hand suddenly flicked his wrist. The wooden stick gave a faint, reddish glow before _thunk-_ ing as it embedded itself nearly three centimeters into the wood of the table like a dagger.

"HARRY!"

Startled, both Harry and Hermione turned to the sudden proclamation. Harry's confusion soon dissipated, gaving way to a welcoming smile upon seeing his friend.

"Oh, Ron!" he said, cheerily, as he pulled his wand from the wood and began idly twirling it in his hand once more.

"We've been wondering where you've been."

 _Thunk._

"Harry!"

The Potter scion blinked owlishly.

"I feel like we've established that already, mate."

"What the blood hell are you doing to the table? Have you lost your mind?"

Harry stared blankly in response, confused at the accusation before realization dawned.

"Oh!" he replied, pulling his wand out of the wood and pointing to the gash that remained. "You mean this?"

Ron had other words to say to his friend's sudden insanity, but feared if he opened his voice he'd find nothing, so he opted instead to just nod. Harry gave a laugh.

"Oh, mate." He assured his friend, rubbing his fist over the slowly healing wood and finishing with slight jazz hands as the crack grew over on the table. "Tada! Not a problem! Self-healing tables."

Ron likely had a response for what he was witnessing, but he found that it suddenly failed him, too. The only thing that broke him from his current shock was a new confusion across the table from him.

Hermione, who had been silent for the entirety of the duo's interaction, had suddenly cursed under her breath as she poured over what looked like her wand and…

Ron watched in utter confusion as a he thought heard a small sizzling sound and a saw thin waft of smoke suddenly floated into the air.

"Hermione." He called out.

"Hmm?" the tanned girl absently replied.

Ron's brain sputtered.

Wait.

Tan?

No.

Not tan.

Hermione's normally paper white skin had become a deep, caramel brown. The girl's hair, ever an unruly forest of chocolate brown curls, sprawled out untamable across identical facial features only shades darker.

Ron suddenly felt a deep flush rush to his cheeks.

"Her—Hermione!" Ron squeaked, barely able to blink, much less process the new development.

"You're…You're…"

The girl looked up, suddenly revealing a pair of safety glasses protecting warm, hazel eyes.

"Busy?" she offered with a small smirk.

" _Black_."

Beside him, Harry coughed loudly and gave a cautious glance around the room.

"Well shit, Ron." He chuckled nervously. "Just shout it out, why don't you?"

Ron's face turned the same color as his hair at the realization of what he had just yelled and he ducked down, as if to hide in the empty dining hall. The witch, taking all of this in too easy a stride for Ron's liking, rolled her eyes with a smile and returned to her project.

When the Weasley found his voice again, he brought a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched hard.

"Okay." He started slowly. "Someone needs to start telling me what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Well," Harry said, tilting his shoulder to the side and revealing a map of Europe with dozens of small marks carved into it courtesy of his wand/knife combo. "I was just trying to plan out my Christmas holiday and Hermione, here, was helping me with suggestions."

"Oh," Ron replied blankly, "You're going on a vacation?"

"More or less," Harry said, waving a hand across his map. "You're welcome to join! I'm still going through options."

Ron returned Harry's bright invitation with blank stare.

"I- I'll be at the Burrow for Christmas I can't..."

Harry gave a small shrug, un-phased by his friend's answer, and returned diligently to his map.

"Rome?" He offered. Hermione didn't look to face him, but made a disinterested groan.

"Too…Italian."

Harry reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses in exasperation.

"But you said the same thing about Athens this morning."

Hermione, clearly not fazed, merely shrugged.

"They can think they're special and different all they want. It's basically the same country."

"I mean that," Harry began leaning back incredulously, "I don't even know where to start with that statement."

"Don't blame me." Hermione shot back, "You're the one who turned down Ludwigshafen."

"That's because if we're going to go to Germany, we're going to go to a proper city like Essen."

Ron, suddenly aware he hadn't spoken in what felt like five minutes, found his voice once more.

"Hi, sorry." He interjected knocking his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention, "It's me, Ron. Best mate, remember? But, yeah…have you lot gone mental?"

"Mental?" Harry queried, innocently. Ron boggled as he received a look that somehow implied that _he_ was the crazy one here.

"O.W.L.S." Ron said bluntly, taking time to accentuate each letter of the acronym. "As in the test that goes on to decide what we get to do with our lives? As in the test you two demanded I be preparing for before we even got to school?"

Ron struggled for a moment to find a better way to convey the enormity of the situation amidst the blank stares he was receiving.

"As in bloody important and the pre-test is next week."

Harry, for his part, grimaced and tilted his head from side to side as if weighing the legitimacy of Ron's claim.

"Well…" he said slowly, "It's just the pre-test, though."

Ron leaned heavily on the table and inhaled deeply.

"I'm dreaming." He whispered to himself. "Yep, that's it. I've fallen asleep on my books and I'm going to wake up with ink on my face and Hermione being pale and Harry not defacing school property and all of this will just be a silly, silly dream."

Hermione, until now completely ignoring the boy's theatrics, responded without moving her focus in the slightest.

"You're awake, Ron."

"No, I'm not." The redhead shot back immediately. Harry gave a small chuckle and shook his head.

"I'm afraid so, mate."

"No." Ron continued, leveling an accusatory finger at Harry. "No. Because if I was dreaming, I sure as hell wouldn't have dreamt of wasting the thirty minutes of my precious Saturday _studying_ for a test we don't even have till after _HOLIDAYS._ "

At the outburst, Hermione and Harry exchanged a look somewhere in between confusion and amusement before responding.

"Well…" Harry offered tentatively, "Sorry?"

Ron made a stained, strangled noise in his throat that reminded Harry of Hippogriffs mating.

"Okay…" the Weasley finally replied after composing himself. "Okay. One of you better start explaining things to me right now or so help me I'll hex you both. Let's start with why you stopped studying for a test."

"Well –"

"For a test!" Ron interrupted aggressively, "I'll remind you, in which you both spent the _entire_ train ride here convincing me I needed to be studying for."

At this, Harry gave a slight groan, bobbing his head uncertainly.

"I've been doing some soul searching. "

Ron closed his eyes and slowly entered the bench between them, only opening them again slowy once he was seated.

"Soul searching?"

Harry nodded gravely.

"In the first three weeks of school?"

"New year, new me?"

Ron had to forcibly restrain his hand from forming a fist and punching the Boy-Who-Was-Being-A-Prick from across the table.

"And bloody what," the red head growled out, "Did you find?"

"Well," Harry's face remained innocent. "I'm just not seeing the point in me studying for a test for a career in something I don't want to do."

"Then pick a new job?"

"I mean a career in magic."

Ron blinked. This time, when he finished, he jiggled his pinky into his ear, making sure he had heard what he thought he had just heard and not some weird ghost whispering nonsense into his ear.

"I'm sorry?"

"O.W.L.S. are pretty useless if you don't want to use magic for a profession."

Ron was left utterly dumbstruck.

"But…but…but…" he stammered, "What about you becoming an auror?"

Harry, for his part, shrugged noncommittedly.

"Yeah…" he replied slowly, waving his hand over the map. "You can imagine the last few months have sort of turned me off from the magical bureaucracy."

Ron glanced away, feeling chastised and conceding Harry's well-deserved lack of trust in the Ministry.

"But lately, I've been thinking maybe a travel writer, or something?"

At this, even Hermione looked up and glared at Harry from beneath her goggles. She didn't say anything, but she gave a snort. Just enough to let Harry know that his story was teetering on physically manifesting itself as a pile of dragon dung it stunk so bad.

Ron let his hand drop from to the table for a long, long moment as he tried one of those deep-breathing techniques Professor Lupin had always tried to get them to learn.

"Okay." He said softly after a few moments. "Okay, I get it. I'm not dreaming, but clearly everyone's just decided they're having a _day._ "

Hermione and Harry blinked in unison as they watched the unfolding drama.

"And you know what," Ron continued, both to himself and the duo. "That's okay. I'm gonna just…Well, go back to the common room and hang out with Seamus or something."

With a huff, his eyes pointedly not meeting the duo, Ron rose to his feet.

"Let me know when you two aren't being absolutely off your rockers."

With his peace said, the middle Weasley turned on his heel and marched out of the hall with a square-shouldered purpose. As his red hair disappeared through the main door, Hermione seemed to nod to herself before returning to her work, pulling an additional metal stick out to prod into her wand

"Laid it on a bit thick there, don't you think?" Harry asked as he returned to his map. The brunette rolled her eyes beneath her glasses as the small hiss of steam escaped her soldering iron.

"Oh whatever 'Mr. Travel Writer'." She snapped back, making air quotes with her free hand.

"Well I had to think of something!" Harry scoffed, defending himself. "You said we weren't taking O.W.L.S."

Hermione raised up a single hand and waggled her finger.

"No," she corrected with a small tut, "I said we weren't studying. You were the one who said no O.W.L.S."

Harry opened his mouth to rebut, but closed it upon remembering the conversation more diligently and realizing that he had put his own foot in his mouth.

"Whatever."

"Now, now." Hermione chided. "Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting."

"Your arms are crossed and your frowning into the distance like a spoiled child." She explained, like she always did. "This is usually known as 'pouting'.

With a sneer, Harry uncrossed his arms and sent the girl a scathing glare. Hermione, wholly focused on her task, allowed only a small smile to tug at her lips as she felt his glare.

"He'll be fine here." She said quickly. Harry sighed.

"I know. I just sometimes wish…"

"No, you don't."

"I mean," he backtracked, "I don't really. But it would be nice to not be…"

"Yeah." Hermione agreed, pausing for a split second from her work but not averting her gaze. "But at least he sort of handled himself."

He nodded in agreement, "It could have gone much worse."

"That," Hermione reminded him, "Is a colossal understatement."

Silence descended upon the table once more for nearly an hour, Harry returning to his familiar _thunking_. Eventually, the notch marks sprawled across Harry's map reached the point where the map more resembled swiss cheese than useful cartography tool. With a wave of his wand, the paper shimmered before mending itself back together. Folding the map back up and cramming it into his back pocket, Harry finally spoke up.

"Merlin's beard, are you quite finished?" he groaned.

Hermione shot him an annoyed glare.

"Philistine. You can't rush art."

"It's not art." Harry shot back. "It's barely even science."

Hermione scoffed.

"Like you could appreciate either."

"Excuse me?" Harry replied, incredulous. "Oh, that is _rich_ coming from you. You wouldn't know art if it bit you on the citrus board."

"Circuit board."

" _Whatever_."

Hermione remained focused, clearly in no mood to debate with the verbal banalities of a caveman. After a brief silence, the girl leaned back, tilting her goggles to her forehead with a satisfied smirk.

"There, there." She cooed to the wand, rubbing a hand delicately across its newly etched surface. "Momma loves you. Don't listen to the mean man across the table."

Harry's half-lidded expression regarded the two with an expressionless mixture of revulsion and annoyance.

"You really are off your rocker, you know that."

"Shhh." Hermione whispered again to the wand, cradling the stick gently in her arms. "The big mean man with the stupid scar is just jealous. You've made it through step-one beautifully, sweet girl. Sleep, now."

"Lunatic." Harry muttered with a slump of his head. "You're an absolute loon."

Hermione, for her part, returned back a brilliant smile.

"You wound me, love." She replied with a perfectly straight face. Harry clearly had something clever to snap back, but closed his mouth and shut his eyes, suddenly entering an almost meditative state.

"I sense…" he whispered, waving a hand slowly through the air as a dark, chill descend upon the room. "I sense a great disturbance in the Hall."

Hermione gagged, quickly tucking away her wand from view.

"Pink incoming."

Harry gave a grimace, unwilling to turn to face the entryway and the approaching beast.

"Time to outrage?"

"Fifteen seconds…Ten Seconds…"

"Mister Potter!"

Harry shot a withering glare to Hermione, so as to get it out of his system before wiping his expression clean and blankly acknowledging his summons.

"Professor Umbridge." He replied evenly, turning to face the oncoming storm with utter neutrality. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

The woman's smile, if it could be described as such, was wide and off-putting. As if the pink she covered herself in head to toe wasn't enough of a visual repulsion, her tiny, brilliantly white teeth looked like those of a wax doll placed into a puppet's mouth.

"Mister Potter." The Professor's voice naturally approached octaves that very nearly bordered damaging exposure to the human ear. "May I ask why you are just twirling around your wand in a public setting as if it were some toy?"

The woman's beady eyes narrowed as Harry tilted his head slightly before replying.

"Of course, Professor." He conceded graciously. "You are, _always_ , more than welcome to ask."

It took Umbridge a moment to realize that permission was the full extent of the boy's statement, and Harry was almost sure he could see her eyebrow twitch ever so slightly.

"Then why," Umbridge continued, shuffling slightly, "are you doing so?"

To this, Harry seemed to ponder this deeply for a long moment, twirling his wand all the while.

"You know what, Professor." He responded slowly, spectacled eyes turning to focus on his wand as it twisted round through his fingers as though outside of his control.

"I have no idea."

Professor Umbridge inhaled sharply, rocking slightly on her toes.

"Then why don't you stop."

Harry took a moment, furrowing his brow in concentration as he processed this suggestion. Slowly, with a great deal of hesitancy, he raised his other hand. Shakily, his other hand approached the still twirling wand of his left hand, and, with a final burst of hesitation, Harry clasped down hard with both hands.

The wand stopped. Harry went slack-jawed.

"Professor!" he exclaimed, turning his shocked face to meet Umbridge's pursed lips. "It worked! Your suggestion worked!"

Turning to his bushy haired companion, Harry held both his hands, wand clasped tightly in between, triumphantly to her.

"Hermione! Professor Umbridge fixed my hand!"

Professor Umbridge's lips were thin as wire as her eyes seemed to bore into Harry. Her hand rose, shaking slightly, as she moved to comment further, but she suddenly shifted her gaze, for the briefest of moments, to the girl Harry had spoken too.

"Miss Granger?"

Professor Umbridge gasped, taking a slight step back as reeled from the girl.

"What on _earth_ is the meaning of this outrage?"

Hermione leaned forward, resting her hand on her cheek thoughtfully.

"Outrage, Professor?"

The look of horror, confusion, and disgust that flashed itself across the woman's face was so perfect, Harry made a mental note to pick up a camera sometime so as to not miss such moments again in the future. However, seeing the woman continue to struggle for the words to express her outrage, Harry decided it best he step in.

"I think the Professor wants to know why you're less white, 'Mione."

The look that Umbridge shot Harry could have melted cauldrons, and it steadily worsened as Harry continued to smile absently back at the woman. Across the table, Hermione laughed softly to herself, running a finger through her hair with a smile.

"Ah." She explained, "I'm afraid it's a family secret, Professor. If I just give it away, soon everybody will be emulating!"

It was admirable, really, the attempt Professor Umbridge's face made to match her outfit as her boney white cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink.

"Emulating?" Professor Umbridge squeaked, her expression morphing as though someone had just shoved manure in her face. "As though someone ought strive for such a _barbaric_ change?"

Hermione's face suddenly hardened, eyes narrowing dangerously as the professor continued.

"You will," the Professor forced her voice to a rigid calmness through barely bridled rage. "Explain yourself this _instant_."

Hermione's immediate retort was cut short by a sudden commotion from Harry. Both hands still gripped tightly around his wand, the boy's eyes widened as he seemed to struggle against what he was holding.

"Uh-Oh." He shouted, a panic rising in his voice. "Professor!"

But Professor Umbridge's focus could not be swayed from Hermione.

"This type of _disgrace_ will not be tolerated!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow threateningly.

"Disgrace?" she fired back, "Excuse me, but what disgrace?"

"Uh…Professor."

"Be quiet, Potter." Umbridge snapped, "It seems your friend Miss Granger has utterly forgotten proper decorum is expected of students while they attend Hogwarts."

"Proper decorum?" the brunette exclaimed, "And what, exactly, have I done outside of 'proper decorum?"

"Guys!" Harry chimed in, his wand beginning to shake violently in his hand as small blue sparks seemed to jump from it.

"Shut up, Harry!"

"Quiet, Potter."

The women continued to glare, tension rising by the second, but the stalemate was abruptly broken by Harry shoving his wand from his hand and diving under the bench.

" _Hit the deck!"_

* * *

The walk down from the Headmaster's office was tense.

Professor Umbridge, her pink blouse still covered in the mysterious blue paint that had erupted from Harry's runaway spell, had stayed just long enough in the doorway to level a glare at both him and Hermione that sufficiently described the oncoming doom facing them in the future.

Hermione, helping no one, had also seen fit to ask Professor Umbridge to walk down the stairs faster, lest they waste more daylight.

So, yeah. Tense.

"One week should work adequately." The brunette witch declared as the duo made their way down the corridor. "I was hoping he would spring for two, but I suppose we shouldn't question providence. We'll need to get started as soon as possible. If we can be gone before tomorrow ni -"

With a sharp glare, Hermione gave Harry a quick elbow in the ribs.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Of course, dammit." Harry barked back, flinching away from the witch. "I'm just…thinking."

"Heavens," Hermione said, sarcasm dripping from her words. "God forbid you think _and_ listen to me at the same time. What on earth about?"

"You think he figured it out?" Harry asked, stretching his arms behind his head as the two returned to the common room. Hermione, her nose buried in a notebook, shook her head.

"Not likely." She idly noted, "He's rarely that discrete when he does."

"Suspicious, at least?"

Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"When is he _not_ suspicious?" she countered, "And why are you being so jumpy about this?"

Harry stretched as they rounded a corner, shaking out his arms anxiously.

"I'm always restless when we start."

"It's exhausting."

Harry grinned cheekily.

"Well take a nap, then."

Hermione snorted, flipping a page in her notebook.

"Oh? And I suppose while I'm napping, you want to be the one to finish these calculations?"

Harry didn't have a comeback, opting instead to make a series of strained, gagging noises at the prospect. Hermione gave a triumphant smirk.

"I didn't think so."

"Feh," Harry waved a hand dismissively, his wand suddenly snapping into his palm and twirling effortlessly between his fingers. "But, we'll be ready to go tomorrow?"

"Should be," Hermione said thoughtfully, "There are a few things we won't be able to do until we get out of England, but nothing too major outside of stopping by Gringotts..."

Harry groaned, dragging his feet.

"Gringotts?" he bemoaned, pitifully. "Do we have to?

"Oh, stop your wining." The witch snapped, "You know it won't take long."

"Just please tell me it's _only_ my vault."

Hermione didn't respond, and Harry gave an additional groan.

"Really?" he begged.

Hermione's voice held no pity for Harry's complaints.

"Not unless you want second rate transportations options." She snapped, "Because I am _certainly_ not riding coach."

Harry gave a scowl, begrudgingly conceding to the witch's logic.

"Fine." He spat quickly, "But we're in an out. I'm not going to let them freak out again."

At this, Hermione adopted a pitying look, reaching a hand over and rubbing her companion's shoulders.

"Poor Harry," she said slowly, "I'll protect you from the big, bad, greedy, goblins."

Harry shot his accomplice a withering glare.

"You're not the one they bloody fixate on." He snapped. "They take one look at that vault and spend the rest of the time giving me that creepy goblin-smile that makes me think they're going to eat my skin."

"Wittle Harry," Hermione consoled dramatically. "Overwhelming wealth must be _such_ a burden for you."

"Spare me your pity, witch." Harry snapped, but his brooding only pushed Hermione into full blown giggles at his misery. He prepared a scathing remark, but was suddenly cut short by a call from behind.

"Harry!" came the unmistakably timid voice of Neville Longbottom as he rushed up the stairwell to catch the two.

"Hey, Nev." Harry responded warmly, "What's up?"

Neville, slightly out of breath from attempting to catch up, fidgeted awkwardly.

"Did you talk to Ron today?" he blurted out, immediately backtracking from such a forward burst. "I just, he had been looking for you and Hermione but I still haven't seen her and I just wanted to be sure. I told him you went to the Great Hall but I just didn't- "

Harry laughed brightly, saving his friend's derailing train of confidence.

"Ron? Oh, yes! I talked to him earlier today in the Great Hall. Thanks for that!"

Neville beamed, happy to have been of help.

"Good!" he said, a little more loudly than he intended. "Was Hermione with you? I still haven't seen her, yet."

"I'm right here, Neville."

Neville blinked, his eyes suddenly turning to the dark-skinned witch standing next to Harry.

"Her—" Neville began to stutter around the first syllable of Hermione's name as his brain seemed to fizzle in confusion. Hermione, with a slight laugh, offered Neville a warm smile before turning and tapping her pencil to her paper, silently telling Harry they needed to carry on. Nodding in understanding, Harry clasped his arms on Neville's shoulders and gave his friend a smile.

"Ah, well listen. Great to see you, Neville." Harry said happily. "When we get back from suspension, we absolutely should hang out sometime!"

With one final grin, Harry patted Neville's shoulders and turned away, he and Hermione quickly rounding up a nearby staircase and disappearing around a corner.

"Her—Her—"

Neville froze as head tilted in utter bewilderment. His face, if possible, became even more confused.

" _Suspension!?"_

* * *

When it rains, it pours. This seems fun. I look forward to y'all's feedback. Pardon the typos, engineering's the game, not grammar. None of my personal friends know I write fanfiction, so it's difficult for me to ask people to proof read. My apologies if it's too egregious!

Thanks for reading!


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